It might not come as too much of a shock to hear that I am not an animal lover. Indeed, I would actually go so far as to say that the only interest I have in anything four-legged relates to the potential of it ending up on a plate in front of me.
Now I realise that this might offend some people, but I simply do not see the point in pets. Dogs seem to do little but eat, shit and make demands on your time whilst cats seem to do little or nothing at all.
As for the ‘companionship’ argument, if I want to spend time with dumb animals, I can switch on the telly and watch Big Brother.
In spite of this, I have over the years, somehow ended up with various beasts living under my roof and currently share living space with two goldfish and two kittens. One of which seems hell bent on inflicting as much pain on me as is possible as the numerous scratches on my hands will testify.
The other however…. well, I have to admit that I am kind of warming to her. Not because she is cute or fluffy, but because of something she did last night. She farted.
Now I have heard plenty of dogs fart over the years and have witnessed on too many occasions to recall that ‘what the hell was that?’ face that all canines seem to be able to do. However, I have never before heard a cat fart. To be honest, the very idea of them doing it at all had never even occurred to me.
What made it all the more impressive was that she did it not once, but three times and with a nice little pause in between each squeak. She actually looked quite pleased with herself when she’d finished. It was a joy to witness.
Reflecting on this later, it struck me as quite significant that of the two kittens, it was the female that had performed. After all, for the majority of human females farting is not something to be celebrated at all. At least not within sight or sound of a male. Instead, it is a bodily function to be carried out as discreetly as possible or even, so some women would have me believe, never at all!
Well, I say discreetly… I recall an occasion in hospital when an elderly nurse was standing in front of me removing a drip needle from my arm and she not only farted but lifted a leg up to do it. Then she just carried on as if nothing had happened whilst every male within ear shot was dying with laughter.
But let’s be honest, for us males farting is a source of much humour. As a youth in a house with a mad father and four brothers, we once kept a microphone set up and a cassette player on permanent pause with the sole function of recording every fart exhausted. The subsequent C90 tape being a source of huge hilarity to us much to the disgust to my mother and poor sister. Latterly, ‘Atomic Fart’ was one of the first apps I downloaded onto my IPhone and remains one of my favoured tactics for reinforcing my child like persona to any women who might doubt it.
Furthermore, the farting scene in the movie ‘Blazing saddles’ remains one of my all time favourite movie moments closely followed by Jim Carey letting one loose in the lift in ‘Liar, Liar’.
Yet aside from cheering us up, there is another function the humble fart performs. It signifies a passage (pun intended).
After all, when a relationship arrives at the point where your partner feels comfortable enough to pass wind in your presence (and I’m not talking about her sticking your head under the covers or anything like that) you know that she’s reached that special point where she’ll be feeling safe enough with you to actually be herself. And that’s an important point in any relationship.
One my little kitten has obviously reached with me.
7 thoughts on “The Joy of Farting…”
Not so sure about your conclusion, Dougie.
When she feels that she can pass wind in your presence, it could just mean that she’s held onto you for so long that she feels your chances of finding another (non-farting) missus are pretty slim. Ponder this:
Several years ago, while shaving, I’d noticed a few grey hairs. As I left the bathroom I heard a faint Pfffffffttt emanating from the bedclothes where my nearest and dearest lay.
I’d never heard her fart before. I’d assumed that she just didn’t. Perhaps she is unwell I thought. The odour wafting from the bed suggested that this was indeed the case. Discretion being the better part of valour, I left the room
As the number of grey hairs sprouting from my scalp have increased, so has the volume of gases escaping from my beloved. With each anniversary, there seems to be a jump in both volume and control. On my 49th birthday, I distinctly heard the first six bars of ‘Happy Birthday to You.’
We have been married nearly twenty-five years; believe me when I tell you that, nowadays, Jeanette in full flight sounds like a Manx Norton on the over-run.
That would be okay, I quite like the sound of classic bikes, but not in a restaurant.
Not sure I agree with all of that young Dave.
After all, as we all know, marriage is an institution invented by women for the benefit of women and was devised for two specific reasons.
First, all women know that once they hit a certain age, they go suddenly downhill and the chances of securing a male worthy of the name after that point hit zero.
Second, women also know that when free of the shackles of female suppression, men actually get better with age. One only has to know a few gay guys to prove that fact.
As a consequence, a female’s formulative years are dedicated to finding a male then beating him into shape until he is firmly under their control. Part of this process involves brainwashing him to believe that he is lucky to have her because he would never find anyone better. Sometimes of course, this will be true but all too often, the average male would be far happier were he to return to a life of maledom and either staying single or using his hard-earned experience to look for a more suitable mate. After all, you are always better at a game when you know the rules!
Personally, I have always advocated a ten year amnesty for marriage. Not least because it would keep the female of the species on her toes! 😉
Aye up, Zep o’ the Stox here. The website I’ve added is my cat’s. If you want to know all about cat’s farting, read Fuggit the Swearing Cat.
You are in trouble if your missus reads this blog mate anyway…..
‘men actually get better with age. One has only to know a few gay guys to prove that fact’.
I trust that you aren’t using the word ‘know’ in a biblical sense….
Of course! I don’t go in for any of the old uphill gardening myself.
‘Part of this process involves brainwashing him to believe that he is lucky to have her because he would never find anyone better’.
What a remarkable coincidence! I never thought it would happen to me but……..
I was walking the dog on our local beach when a very attractive young lady approached me. She had an English accent and after the usual small talk about what sort of dog he is and how remarkably well trained he is etc etc, she asked me back to her place.
I thought it might be a wind-up; so I had a quick look around for hidden cameras, but there were none. I looked back to see a slight smile on her lips. She could see my hesitation. ‘I have certain talents that a mature man such as yourself might appreciate,’ she said.
I heard what seemed to be a drum roll; from whence it came I could not tell, then with a sound like thunder, the first six bars of ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ emanated from her behind. There was no doubt in my mind that here was something of a virtuoso. Jeanette’s ‘Happy Birthday to You’ seemed lame in comparison.
I was thunderstruck, so to speak. Anyway, to cut a long story short, she passed me a piece of paper with her number on it.
What should I do?
Stop eating cheese before you go to sleep!!!!